


Bow

by bachtoreality



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 19:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachtoreality/pseuds/bachtoreality
Summary: A power play between two equals. No smut, just dirty talking so far.





	Bow

* * *

* * *

A rigid shape can only bend so far before it shatters, splinters into edges raising up like blades of grass pressed to an edge of a shear. Take a bow, which owes its mechanism of deployment to the rigidity of its structure. At the same time were you to take the same bow against any edge, even a knee it would snap rather easily. If given the right amount of force. Too little and you simply whip your knee and wince through the sting. Too hard and the bow will bounce back, hit other parts unguarded. However if you aim carefully and allow just the right amount of force a bow can break. It's just a matter of measured response.

Hannibal had tried to break Will just right. Had fought to pin him where he wanted. So much time dedicated to perfectly choreographed scenery, it was sickening to think about. Like a dullard sending love letters perfumed in rose and garishly stamped to a person who sneezes at the scent and throws the offending object away. 

Will would not appreciate his work, not aloud. He was withholding. And it killed Hannibal, it was working. Who would win this game, who makes the first move- those questions teetered between them in echoing space. 

Will had endless patience. An obvious virtue he had learned from river fishing. He would act like he had no interest, no clue but then he would be right there, awake and alive with eyes burning, knowing. 

Hannibal conversely, was a vibrating chord full of tense energy. His face didn't show it, it never did. But the white knuckles tightly wound behind his back, betraying him. It was not that he lacked patience, no certainly not the case. He had waited so long for this, for the two of them to reach an understanding. A mutual admiration of reciprocation. Everyone was a student to him, a protege. He had wished the same for Will, but as always Will had other plans. It frightened him. To not be in control. To not anticipate whether the other man would look out for him, to sacrifice for him in the same way his other lovers did. 

Will Graham was looking at him like he would rather be staring at Hannibal like he'd prefer the man be hanging dead and bloodied from the rafters. Instead he was standing awkwardly in the doorway. Well, as awkward as Hannibal could be which was more so menacing. Except his expression looked constipated. It made Will chuckle to himself. 

The other man shot him an inquisitive look. 

"Why don't you sit down, dear? Obviously there's a lot on your mind." Will spoke, his left hand freeing the chair next to him. 

Clear blue eyes watched as Hannibal pointedly sat in the chair on the right instead. 

If they shared anything, it was minute pettiness. 

"Will, I requested you stay on bedrest today. Your leg has only recently healed. I can not take you to hospital in our current situation so it would be best if-" 

"I figured since it was a request that meant I had a choice in the matter. If I didn't you could've demanded it."

"I find it hard to believe that you would follow any of my demands." 

"Depends on what kind." The smile Will gives him is cunning, sensual. Not to be trusted. 

He wants to play games. 

It drove Hannibal rabid, his hands twitching at his side, wanting to grab and hold down slim wrists that could only give in to him. 

It was a moment before he would register that Will was up, walking past him with a slight limp. 

"I know what you are, Hannibal. You don't want control. You want a fight, a drama. An opera. I know each night you want to push me down, render me pliant under you. You want to rut into me tirelessly until I am screaming your praises, wailing like you are my judgement given human form and now it is my turn to just take-"

Hannibal rises with a clatter and stalks toward Will- his hands rising to push him against the wall. To corner him. 

But will is no frightened animal. 

He just smiles at Hannibal, a smile that otherwise would be a welcome sight. 

"I am not Bedelia, I am not Alana. You cannot just weave me around with words and gesture. You have to ask me directly. Bluntly. What you want me to do. And maybe I will-" 

He is cut off by lips covering his own, at hands holding his head in place. 

"Will, please." It's soft, almost inaudible coming from Hannibal. 

"Yes? You have to say it."

"I want to fuck you against this wall. I want to rip and tear at your clothes until you are left bare. I want you to come in my mouth as I hold you there, unable to escape the overstimulation as I go until there is nothing left. And as you grow limp, bodily I will bring you down, down to the floor and take you until you're coming again, and again. Incoherent in lust." 

Will's eyes are wide, his pupils dilated wildly. 

"Then do it."


End file.
